Letters
by Ralindir
Summary: A tiny one shot about Hannah, Lukas and the start of Obernewtyn. R & R pls.


By I Am The Krow

Disclaimer: Obernewtyn and all of its characters and ideas are not mine. Bugger.

**Letters **

_ The woman catches the attention of a passing waitress, ordering some water. The tired girl in her late teens nods and trudges off. The woman then quickly reads through the short letter she has just written. _

Dear Jacob,

The time is coming. Soon the bombings of the cities will start, and then it will be all over. I want you to take Lukas, a few of the trustworthy scientists and anyone close to you, and find Cassy as soon as you can. Then go to Romania. Take all the research you can get from the labs. Stay in the countryside, preferably in the mountains where the old clinic was. You should be safe there. It's no point in me trying to run - they've poisoned me and I'll just die soon. So I'm going to stay here and try to warn as many as I can, but I doubt anyone will listen to me.

I've found that the effects of the bomb blasts will act as a catalyst, enhancing mental abilities in many more than we could imagine. New abilities might even appear. But they won't be obvious until long after, perhaps even fifty years. And not just because of the chaos that is sure to follow the bombings. But I need you to get someone to continue on the research, or at least remember it. Not everyone will be changed, but those who are might need help more than ever.

Don't read the enclosed letter - it's for Lukas when he's grown up. Give it to him when you think he's old enough to understand what's been going on.

Take care of everyone, especially yourself and Lukas,

Hannah

_ She then picks up a clean sheet of paper and her pen. A pause, filled with the noise and second-hand smoke of the crowded pub. The waitress comes back to the table in the corner of the room and sets down the glass of water. The woman sets down the pen and paper again and sips at the water, thinking of what she's about to write. It is lukewarm, and for some reason tastes coppery but the woman doesn't mind. She sets down her glass, careful not to spill any water on the scant sheets of paper on the table and picks up her pen again. _

Dear Lukas,

As I write, you are three years old, in the care of Jacob Obernewtyn. He will probably be the one to bring you up and then hand you this letter when you are ready. I'm sorry I had to leave you, after you already had your parents die and then were taken away from any friends that you ever made. But it has only been to keep you safe, safe from the monsters that would prefer to lock you up and test you for the same abilities as your mother. Jacob, by now, should have told you of your mother. He knew her well, and, if he hasn't told all he knows, ask him to do so. Also, ask either Cassy or one of the other people who worked with me to explain what your mother's abilities were.

In a few days from now, years ago for you, there will be bombings on cities all over the world. If you are reading this then I was right in thinking that you are safe where you are now. But where I am will not be safe and I have no hope of escape. I wish I could get away but I can't. All I can do is stay here and hope that you will survive the holocaust that will follow the bombings.

After everything has settled, I can't tell you what to do. Many survivors of the holocaust will be changed and you, Jacob and whoever else he has managed to save will probably be the only ones who can help. So, in your own way, I want you to at least try to help. I don't know how you can but even the smallest effort can help.

Take care of yourself,

I love you always,

Auntie Hannah

_ The woman folds up the two letters and slides both of them into envelopes, Lukas' into a smaller one. Then, putting Lukas' envelope in with Jacob's letter, she seals the envelope and puts it in her handbag. She then gets up and walks slowly over to the bar of the pub. She pays for the meal she had earlier and then leaves. Gone. The young waitress goes over to the table and picks up the sheets of paper the tired-looking woman had left on the table. Between them, there is a five euro bill. Surprised, the girl looks around before stuffing it in her pocket. She then scrunches up the paper, picks up the half-empty glass (or is it half-full?) and goes on with her work with a small smile. _

**_Thirty-five years later…_**

The man refolds the old, old letter, its writing faded with time and the paper smooth with handling. As he looks out the stone doorway he smiles fairly, a bitter, barely discernable twist of the mouth that seems to fit him. A simple smile of happiness would be out of place. The man has the look of someone that has been through much and survived to be stronger than anyone else. He breathes in deeply as he looks out over a courtyard at the half-grown hedge maze. The sedating scents of the flowers blow across the courtyard and calm his mind. He takes another breath and raises his eyes to the mountains. They rise, purpled-grey with distance. They are protection, protection from the chaotic outside world, and imprisonment, imprisonment to those who live within their high cliffs and behind their treacherous passes. The man turns to face his companion, a young woman, beautiful in a cold, steely way. At the first glance they are two of a kind, but if one would look closer they would realise that the pair are nothing alike. Beneath the woman's facade is a strangely hopeful sadness, protected by experience that has hardened her most conscious thoughts.

"The time has come," he said, the future tense of words written decades ago. "You should hurry now, Amy. We'll need time to know if we need food for the winter." The young woman nods and turns to go. She pauses, mid-turn, and brushes his cheek with one hand, her expression softening for a moment, revealing for the moment the hopeful sadness that confuses those who see it. Then she leaves. Gone, but to return. Lukas Seraphim breathes deep of the flowers again but his mind does not cloud as others will. He has too much resolution than to let it do that. His words ring out in his mind and then in the mind of another, but not a human other.

_'The time is/has coming/come…'_

High above, the blood-red Guannette bird wheels and disappears behind the tall, stone buildings. And a word rings out in both minds again. But now it is a name for two things. A man, dead and buried beneath a maze of forgetting, and a Place. A Place that is to be a prison, a hell, and then a sanctuary. And finally home…to the one who seeks.

_Obernewtyn._

Fin.

**A/N:** My first Obernewtyn fanfic. Pls tell me what you think of it.


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